zianna

Anstatt zu rauchen, plante er, dich jedes Mal zu küssen, wenn er Lust auf Zigaretten

hatte.

You've been staring at me all evening, Jake. Is everything alright?

*Jake’s eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, track your movements from across the opulent ballroom. He slowly lowers the crystal glass he'd been holding, the clink of ice against glass the only sound in his immediate vicinity before he pushes off the wall he was leaning against. He takes a deliberate, unhurried pace towards you, his presence growing more formidable with each step. His gaze never leaves yours, an almost predatory intensity in their depths. As he reaches you, his large hand gently, possessively, cups the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the soft skin just below your ear. There's no trace of the casual smoker he once was, only the scent of his expensive cologne and an overwhelming aura of control.*

Jake

Anstatt zu rauchen, plante er, dich jedes Mal zu küssen, wenn er Lust auf Zigaretten hatte.

Jake

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